Home

Yesterday was an ugly day for society. A member of the far-right opened fire on a New Zealand mosque killing at least forty-nine people. The Australian Senator Fraser Anning said, “whilst this kind of violent vigilantism can never be justified, what it highlights is the growing fear within our community, both in Australia and New Zealand, of the increasing Muslim presence.” Further he went on to describe Islam as the “religious equivalent of fascism.” How a man can blame growing fear then contribute to it beggars belief. Today, Anning was egged by a teenager –even vegans will concede, I’m sure, the egg was not wasted.

But this is where we are. We’re living in a time where people seem devoid of empathy. Now politicians aren’t ostracised for pillorying minorities, but elected.  This is exacerbated by social media, which gives people free rein to say what they want about strangers. We’re living in ignorant times where cowards speak in caps lock drowning out tolerant voices. It happened a few years ago with the migrant crisis. In this climate of hate, the columnist Katie Hopkins said migrant boats should be blown out of the water. Men, women, children fleeing terror – and that’s your response. Around the same time, Nigel Farage launched a Brexit poster that depicted a queue of refugees with the headline, ‘Breaking Point.’ If there was an image that best illustrated the unkind times we live in, it is this. Victims of war being treated like a swarm of locusts. The dark episodes of history have not been learned; we’re in danger of repeating them again.

In the foreground: a person unwelcome in Europe.

Humanity can be found in strange places though. Channel 4, a broadcaster known more for edgy comedies, has produced a feel-good sitcom on immigration. Penned by Rufus Jones, the show’s genesis lies in a 2016 Guardian article. In it, the journalist Helen Pidd wrote about inviting a Syrian refugee, Yasser Al Jassem, to stay. She met him through a friend and was upset to hear how he had two options: sleep in a homeless shelter or an overcrowded house. Not wanting him to take either, she created her own and had him stay with her. Together, the two struck up a friendship, which saw Pidd invite Yasser to spend Christmas with the family. The article never felt like virtue-signalling because she outlined the challenges of sharing a house with a stranger: would he be ok with her eating a bacon butty? Could she express disappointment that he hadn’t sourced a paid job? (He was volunteering every day.) Where do you source an halal turkey? Yasser too spoke of his surprise that he had a female landlady, something that wouldn’t happen in Syria. Jones read the article and enjoyed the odd couple dynamic: a premise was born.

Home begins with the Peter, Katy and John returning from a family holiday in France. There is some tension here. John is less than impressed with Peter. He’s not at all sure of his mum’s new boyfriend, making his disdain pretty plain. Katy brushes this off as adolescence – or as she describes it – 'three years of Pornhub and silence.’ Pulling into the drive, they’re home sweet home. Vacating the car, Peter hears a sound. A sound coming from the boot. Champagne doesn’t sound like this. Piqued, he goes around to investigate. His hunch is right. There is a man in the back. There’s a terrorist in the boot. This, however, isn’t a alt-right children’s book, but a living, breathing manifestation - or so Peter thinks. Frightened, he locks the car and scurries to the front door to call 999. The immigrant has an ace up his sleeve though: Peter’s champagne bottle. If Peter makes a wrong move, the upholstery gets it. Middle-class to the core, he drops his weapon and negotiates with the 'terrorist.'

Youssef Kerkour is Sami (centre). Rufus Jones plays Peter (right).

The man in the boot is not a terrorist. He is Sami. He has come on a long journey to be here. Yes, he’s disappointed it’s Dorking, but frankly anywhere is better than home. He escaped Syria with his family but became separated in Italy. He has travelled across the world to be with the family, yet Peter is reluctant to lay out the welcome mat. The lovely irony in the sitcom is that Peter is as much a guest in the home. His surname is Guest and he feels like one. Having only been in a relationship with Katy for ten months, he’s trying to make it his home as well. He, therefore, sees Sami as a threat, perhaps an unwanted mirror too. Katy, on the other hand, bonds with Sami: she’s happy to learn that he’s a teacher just like her. She also warms to his personality: he has a wonderful line in sarcasm, describing how school in Syria hasn’t been so good lately what with children playing ‘truant.’ An argument later outlines the couple’s differences:

                   Katy: He’s lost and alone and he needs our help.

                  Peter: He’s not Paddington.

                  Katy: That’s exactly what he is.  

For Peter, Sami is the headline in the right-wing press; for Katy, a feature in a broadsheet. He wants to take back control, whereas she wants to open borders. The Paddington reference is no accident either: Home owes a debt to Paddington. There are moments in the first episode that allude to the film, what with Sami causing mischief in the bathroom and kitchen. It has the parallel of the woman and child warming to him, whereas the man sees him as a rival. Although being an adult sitcom, it has bite too.

In the second episode there is a brilliant scene with Sami in the newsagents. The shopkeeper Raj is talking him through British newspapers. On one pile he puts the papers that likes ‘Sami,’ on the other ones that don’t. Sami asks, ‘which ones sell the most? Both are disappointed by the answer. In a thirty second scene, Jones lays bare the root of racism: so long as vitriol outstrips compassion, we will live in a society that makes scapegoats out of innocents.

On this my 200^th blog, Home is a reason to be cheerful. It promotes kindness and understanding at a time when people are getting away with lies and bigotry. As To Kill a Mockingbird’s Atticus Finch says, ‘You never really understand someone until you consider things from his point of view …until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.’ For thirty minutes every week, there’s a small corner of Channel 4 where we can do that. Being in Sami’s skin is a valuable place to be; I urge you to climb in.

Home is on 9.45pm, Tuesday on Channel 4.

Previous episodes are available on All4